


Of victory and defeat

by KeyKnows



Category: Tales of Symphonia
Genre: Gen, Implied Colloyd, Post-Game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-16
Updated: 2014-06-16
Packaged: 2018-02-04 22:27:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1795408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeyKnows/pseuds/KeyKnows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Doesn't matter how much you want to avert it, with victory always come sacrifice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of victory and defeat

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Tales of Symphonia.
> 
> Hi people, before reading you must know my native language is not english, so there will be mistakes, but I hope the story to be understandable and enjoyable :3

 

And, suddenly, it’s over.

Mithos is dead, the Great Tree is alive again, the world is back to his original form and new roads unfold before them, awaiting the new stories they’ll form upon their missions.

But the world is at peace, sort of, and their souls are weary for all they have accomplished and they deserve to rest. There is no rush, not at all, no like it was before. So Colette and Lloyd, in the middle of the preparations for their new journey, take a night free.

They stay at Dirk’s house, Colette have been spending most of her time there, away for the village that it’s not his home at all and away for the people that isn’t hers at all, either. It’s not like she doesn’t love Iselia, or like she doesn’t love his father and grandmother, but being the Chosen put a gap between her and her family that she doesn’t feel prepared to cross. It’s weird, because even when she told herself it was selfish to think about it, she always wondered how they could treat her if she wasn’t the Chosen, if she wasn’t meant to die and she had a life before her: would they love her like the Professor loved Genis? Would they care for her as Dirk cared for Lloyd?

Now she does have a life before her and a part of her doesn’t know what to do with it.

In any case, Lloyd is her family, so she prefers to spend her time with him; and now she has time to fix things up with her relatives later.

This particular night, they forget about making a route for their journey, and about the supplies they’ll need, and about the tension between Tethe’allans and Sylvarantians and help Dirk in the house, with his work, with his other chores. They help make dinner and sit to eat it with a nice conversation going.

Colette is still terrible excited about being able to eat and to feel the flavor bath her tongue, about the warm feeling of the soup. She contains her enthusiasm, nevertheless, because she notices, painfully, how Lloyd is having problems to finish his meal, how he doesn’t seem to truly enjoy the food. It hurts her, to recognize herself in his gestures, in his endeavor to don’t show it. She feels like crying, but she holds it back and continues with the food and the conversation, with a bright smile in her face because she knows the burden Lloyd is carrying doesn’t need any more weight.

When dinner is over she and Lloyd take care of the dishes in silence while Dirk does…she doesn’t know, she isn’t paying attention to anything that isn’t Lloyd. She’s so concentrated on observing him as discreetly as she can, she almost drops a plate. Colette gasps at the sight and Lloyd catches it just a second before it crushes against the wooden floor. He smiles at her while she apologizes and he tells her it’s okay.

She’s reassure of his smile being warm and gentle and everything she loves, as always. She’s worried of how fast he was, because she remembers getting strong and fast and a lot better in fighting as her humanity was slipping away.

Colette washes her worries with a nervous laugh and more apologizes.

The rest of the night is she trying to don’t look concern. She’d like to speak with him, to don’t let him carry this alone like he did for her in the past, but she also understands, understands the feeling of not wanting anyone to know, of wanting to avoid the distress to others and she’s torn between force him to open up or to respect his decision.

When time to go to bed arrives, she hasn’t decided, and she and Lloyd go to his room. She have been sleeping there, on his bed while has made an improvised one on the floor. She doesn’t like him sleeping on the floor but it can’t be help, by now at least she hopes. But, anyway, Colette likes sleeping on his bed, she can’t deny it, she likes it because it smells like him, like woods and fresh air and metal; more importantly it’s almost like sleeping in his arms.

She falls asleep after a while of watching his back covered by the mattress, trying to see in the dark if he’s truly asleep or if he’s faking it, but failing and surrendering to her tiredness.

Colette doesn’t know how much time passes between she falling asleep and she waking up, but when she does is late at night, the moon’s light strains across the door to the terrace and reveals that Lloyd isn’t there.

She sits on the bed silently, waiting for her body to get out of the sleep numbness and her eyes to habituate to the dark; they do it quickly, even if she has regain her humanity, some of her angel’s senses are still with her.

She gets up of the bed, her warm, bare feet making contact with the cold floor. She doesn’t mind it and walks to the door, noiselessly. At a couple of steps of the door one of the boards creaks under her weight and she says goodbye to the surprise element, he surely listened it.

The fresh wind of the night welcomes her as she makes it to the terrace. Lloyd’s there, like she knew he would, with his hands leaned on the rail and his eyes lost in the starry sky. She goes beside him and looks at the sky too, observing all the stars winking at them and the two moons that doesn’t look as weird as one could expect: they were always supposed to be there, after all.

They spend some time like this, with their eyes wandering the sky and the sound of the forest filling their silence. Meanwhile, Colette thinks.

She thinks about the sky, so different of the one she grew up under but somehow so reassuring. She thinks of what this sky means, and finds only one word to describe it: victorious.

She has never been one to think about heroism or victory, even if somehow the charge of the Chosen implied she was meant to be the hero of the world and that her victory means everyone’s victory. But when she looks at this sky is impossible not to think about the victory it represents, for them at least, for them who know the cost of it.

Kratos comes to her mind, unexpectedly; Kratos, wandering the space, lost in the sky, Kratos, taking responsibility of his acts. Looking at the firmament she remembers her sleepless nights, back on the journey of regeneration, and remembers Kratos keeping her quite company most of the night, telling her to count stars to past the time. After she learned of his angel status, she couldn’t help but wonder how many stars he counted on his own restless nights.

Lloyd probably is thinking of him too, she guesses, as he looks the sky. Of his sword teacher, of his enemy, of his father and all the lost time they just couldn’t take back, even after Lloyd saving the world, after Lloyd making everything all right.

Yes, in the sky, written with stars and bathed with moon light, is victory.

“Lloyd…” she calls with a quite, solemn voice.

He takes her hand as he hears her, and squeezes it a little to tell her to don’t talk. And she would like to oblige his silent plead, but there are just things that need to be say:

“You are still you” is everything that comes out of her mouth.

And she suspects that, if he could, he would cry.

He finally looks at her, and she looks back. His eyes are full of soundless sorrow and unspoken worries, of apologizes, and questions and curses.

Colette tries to smile, a little at least, to let him know that she’s there and she will be. She fails and her smile turns into crying. And it’s okay, she says with her blue, watery eyes, it’s okay because if once he cried for her now it’s her turn to do so, and if she once was disposed to give her life for him now she’s ready to live for him.

He hugs her, tightly, and she hugs him back.

They stay like that for while, with Colette weeping for both of them. And after the eternity they spend like that, lost in the warm of the embrace Lloyd can't feel anymore and Colette feels so intensely, she steps back.

She smiles, with tears still going down her cheeks and pulls out her wings.

They shine beautifully in the dark.

“Let’s go for a fly” she says, her voice a little hoarse for her crying.

Lloyd smiles at her, so brightly it could almost overshadow her wings, and he pulls out his own pair. They are even more beautiful that Colette’s, so much bigger and so much brighter. So much meaningful.

She elevates and offers him a hand. He takes it, and they soar.

For all the freedom their wings grant them, they are also a reminder, Colette knows, of how they aren’t human anymore.

They fly across the starry sky, across the victory they have accomplished. They fly, and the mere act of flying across their victory is also the proof of their defeat.

Because it didn’t matter how much Lloyd wanted to avoid it, it didn’t matter how desperate and determinate he was to don’t allow it: In order to win, you need to lose.

And in his endeavor of not making more sacrifices, he had become one.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Personally, I'm really happy with the result, I wasn't totally sure where I was going with this, there were a lot of ideas coming to me as I wrote, but I like the route it took.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing. Every comment is appreciated.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
